


To Stride or Not to Stride

by ptw30



Category: Prince of Stride: Alternative (Anime)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Gen, M/M, Mentions of Tomoe, Senpai!Reiji, preslash
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-14
Updated: 2016-01-22
Packaged: 2018-05-13 23:22:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5720866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ptw30/pseuds/ptw30
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of drabbles that revolves around the Honan High School Stride Club. Will update tags as more stories are posted.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Importance of a High-Five

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this on a whim. I’ve only seen the first two episodes, so I’m not quite sure about the game story. Please excuse my ignorance. 
> 
> Chapter Summary: Takeru and Riku high-five all the time, not just during Stride. And Nana realizes it's more than just off-track practice.

Nana noticed it the third week into the new school year. She stopped by her locker after lunch and so did Riku, picking up a book or two for their afternoon lessons, so Takeru waited for them at the door of their next period class. Nana was a step behind Riku and witnessed the subtle raise of Takeru’s hand, which Riku accepted with a stingy slap, almost as hard as if they were running, but the busy hallway swallowed most of the sound. 

After that, she noticed the two Striders slapped hands whenever they passed in the hallway, met for lunch, broke after lunch. Even if they were on two opposite ends of the school courtyard, they made a point to find each other and slap hands. They never spoke or even acknowledged each other, other than the slap, and Nana began to wonder—just what was the purpose? Takeru thought about nothing more than Stride, so was this a way to practice their relation-ing while off the track and streets? 

If she asked Riku, he would probably apologize and pass it off as nothing, while Takeru wouldn’t care and answer honestly albeit briskly. 

So she went to him. 

“It’s not practice,” Takeru replied that evening in the club room. “Riku almost left the Stride Club.”

“What!” How could she have missed that? Riku loved Stride, loved running with Takeru and the rest of the team. He wouldn’t just give that up unless—

“Tomoe is running for Kakyoin.” His tone seemed thawed, melting under the burning anger that came with the stark declaration. The raw emotion startled Nana more than anything. “I wanted to remind him that he’s not running for Tomoe anymore. He’s running for himself.”

 _With me,_ she heard. Or perhaps it was _for me._ Nana wasn’t sure, but she smiled. 

Takeru bristled, perhaps for the first time she’d ever seen. She had caught a glimpse of just what was in that head of his, behind that cold mask, and she found it to be quite warm, actually. Takeru wanted to keep his friend and partner-in-Stride, and he’d do anything, including affirming their relationship at every turn. 

She lifted up her hand. “Do you mind if I…?” 

It was small, practically infinitesimal, but she saw the smile that perked up the edge of Takeru’s lips and lingered much longer in his eyes. He met her hand with his own. “No, of course not. I appreciate your dedication to the team.”

They’d more or less dragged Riku back into a sport he loved—and hated—and she’d be remiss if she didn’t do everything in her power to keep Riku smiling and enjoying himself while Striding.

 _With Takeru_ , she added if only to herself. After all, Riku was the only one that could draw out Takeru’s human side, and she wanted to see more of it. 

So the next time she saw Riku in the hallway, she lifted up her hand, and after a momentarily look of uncertainty, Riku broke out in a wide, giggling smile and slapped it. And she thought, if only for a second, she might have seen an even bigger smile on Takeru’s face, even if it was just in his eyes.


	2. Sundays Suck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Takeru was lonely on Sundays until Riku came into his life. Now, he's a pastry puff.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I read in the minidramas that Takeru lives alone, and Riku’s family owns a bakery. Hence this.

Sundays sucked, in Takeru’s opinion. Mondays through Saturdays were filled with morning Stride practice, afternoon Stride practice, a quick lap around the school during lunch—oh, and lessons scattered in between. But on Sundays, he was alone, sitting in his mom’s apartment, finishing up his week’s work before going for a run…alone.

Before his training partner ran off to the U.S., they used to meet early, sometimes before eight, and practice the majority of the day. But now…Sundays were quiet and long and Takeru couldn’t wait for Monday morning practice.

Until he started Honan.

That first Sunday, he texted Riku endlessly, waking him time and time again until his (frustrated) new partner stumbled out of bed and came to the track. It only took about five Sundays of countless texts until Riku, carrying pastries and coffees, yawned as he entered the track just before eight.

“These aren’t conducive to Stride,” Takeru commented, even though he grabbed a cherry Danish and a coffee.

Riku sent him a flat glare. “You think you’re stubborn? You should meet my mom. She doesn’t take no for answer, and that includes ‘bringing some goodies for your new friend.’ ” He used air quotes.

Hmm. Takeru would have replied with another comment about Stride and sweets, but his mouth was indulging in sugary goodness.

After nine Sundays, he finished three laps around the track before his phone chirped with a new text.

From Riku:  
>>>Sorry, Takeru! Can’t come! Emergency @ bakery!

From Takeru:  
>>>There is no such thing. Get here now.

Takeru nodded to himself, satisfied with his answer before heading off to complete another lap. By the time he finished, Riku still hadn’t texted back.

From Takeru:  
>>>If the Danishes aren’t done, you can bring a set of cupcakes or old-fashioned donuts.

Another lap. No text.

From Takeru:  
>>>Are you coming, or do I have to go there and get you?

The bakery overflowed with frantic customers who clamored to get inside the doors. Those lucky few who made it screamed orders to the rather level-headed but overworked staff, which included a thoroughly floured Riku. He wore his Honan workout shirt and shorts under a red apron, like he had been on the way out the door but his family snagged him at the last moment to help at the counter, and now flour covered the front of his outfit and even dusted his hair like flurries.

It might have been cute…if Takeru thought of anything other than Stride.

After Riku handed a customer a bag of rolls, his eyes raked over the numerous patrons, landing on Takeru. His usually bright smile grew even more radiant, and he waved incessantly. “Takeru! Takeru! What are you doing here?”

“Hey, I was next!” one of the customers yelled, to which Riku immediately bowed. “Of course. Of course, my apologies! I’ll be with you in one moment.” Waving Takeru to the side of the glass case, Riku rushed, “Takeru! What are you doing here? I said I couldn’t make it.”

“I, uh…” _I came to get you._ “I do better practicing after eating a cherry Danish.”

Riku’s eyes shimmered like rubies. “You missed me, Takeru!”

Takeru averted his eyes, cheeks suddenly burning. “I missed your mother’s Danishes.”

“Oh, don’t be a tsundere, Takeru! You missed me!”

An arm snagged Riku by the neck and held him close. “Riku-chan, don’t tell me. This is the famous Fujiwara-kun I keep hearing about.”

“ _Mooooom!_ Please! Takeru just came for a Danish before heading back to the track.”

“Oh, don’t run off so quickly!”

Takeru now saw where Riku got his bubbly personality, though her hair dark hair and angular face reminded Takeru of a feminine Tomoe. Riku’s mother flipped up the counter’s door, snatched Takeru’s wrist, and dragged him into the work area.

“My husband is currently overwhelmed in the back with a last-minute order, so we need all the help we can get! Riku-chan, get your friend an apron and show him the ropes.”

Wait. _What!_

“Don’t worry, Takeru. Just smile and ask the customers what they want,” Riku chatted excitingly as he unzipped Takeru’s Honan jacket and wrapped an apron around his waist. He paused for a second before his eyes shut briefly with a sheepish smile. “Well, _you_ don’t need to smile. Just ask the customers what they want and then get it for them. I’ll tell you how much everything costs.”

The next hour was the longest in Takeru’s life as he asked, “What do you want?” in his usual toneless voice, causing a few customers to chide his behavior and Riku to hit him in a face with a cream puff. (And now, he, too, was thoroughly floured.)

When he told a little girl to, “Make a choice already,” about which cookie she wanted, Riku elbowed him in the gut before laughingly giving her one of every kind.

“That’s not conducive to business,” Takeru admonished.

“You know what’s not conducive to business? Yelling at the customers!”

“You’re yelling at me.”

“You’re not a customer!”

“I came for a cherry Danish.”

“Fine.” Riku muttered, stomping over to the case and ripping it open. He lifted up the item in question. “You can have this if you can take more customers than me— _politely._ ”

“That is not a fair competition,” Takeru sniffed, crossing his arms over his chest.

“I won’t practice with you later if you don’t beat me.”

It still was an unfair competition, but Riku’s words thrummed Takeru’s nerves. Riku wouldn’t Stride with him? But—But that’s what they did. That’s all Takeru did besides sleep, eat cherry Danishes, and lessons. _And text Riku_ , a voice inside his head reminded him, but he dismissed it as he turned to the nearest woman, who lingered just behind the glass case.

“What would you like today…” he added after a moment of hesitation, “… _ma’am_?”

He heard Riku mutter behind him, “Just here for the cherry Danish, my ass,” but decidedly ignore him.

The hours flew by after that, and though he mentally kept a tally in his head—he was up twenty-three to nineteen after two more hours—he began to work with Riku like they ran. They passed off orders when one was closer to the case than the other, and Riku showed him how to effectively and aesthetically write “Happy Birthday” on a cake.

Of course, he got the girl’s name wrong, but Riku smoothed that over with another cookie and a dazzling smile before correcting the writing for him.

After the morning rush died down, Takeru felt like he’d run a marathon. His feet were a disturbing mix of pins and needles, and dull aches, and Riku laughed at his misery, standing by the glass case holding the Danishes. (Takeru, on the other hand, collapsed onto the box behind the counter Riku’s mom used to reach the higher shelves.)

“I think you earned this,” Riku reached for a cherry Danish, only to find the spot empty. In fact, the only Danishes left were cheese and chocolate, not even lemon or berry. “Uh,” Riku laughed nervously and rung his hands, “maybe I can interest you in a cherry muffin top?”

A pastry box dropped into Takeru’s hands, and he blinked as a foreign hand ruffled his white-puffed hair. “What did I tell you, Riku-chan? Make sure to keep your best customers happy.” Riku’s mom winked at Takeru. “So we’ll see you next week, Fujiwara-kun? Bright and early before the morning rush.”

He did not sign onto this, but when he opened the box, he felt the soft smile tugging at his uncooperative lips. The box was full of cherry Danishes.

Riku fell to the ground next to him and stole one of the pastries. “We open at six, so you’ll probably have to stay over. Mom likes to start setting up at five-thirty.”

“Hmm.” Takeru took a pastry out himself and bit into it, wiping the excess cherry filling from the corner of his mouth. “Fine.”

Riku smiled at him, one of those beaming grins that lit his entire face.

Takeru stopped in mid-bite of his delicious reward. “What?”

“I don’t know. I think this is the longest conversation we’ve ever had without mentioning ‘Stride,’ and that’s kinda—”

“Stride!” He was exhausted, his legs protested, but Takeru stood and snatched the back of Riku’s shirt, dragging him toward the door.

“Wait! Wait, Takeru! We have to shower. I smell like sugar! You look like a pastry puff, and…and…you’ll help out on Sundays just so I can practice with you?”

Takeru stopped in mid-motion and glanced down at his captured prey. He wished he didn’t feel the trembling in his hands or the frown forming on his lips. “You…don’t want to…?”

“No, of course I do. I just didn’t realize you felt the…Never mind! Never mind!” Riku waved his hands frantically in front of his face, ditched his apron, and yelled on his way out the door, “Last one to the track gets the bottom bunk next week!”

Takeru threw his apron, too, ignoring Riku’s mother’s scolding, and followed quickly after his partner. Hm. This Sunday wasn’t so bad, and Takeru thought as he worked out the tension in his muscles and gained on Riku, Sundays really haven’t sucked in a while.


	3. The Sum of Saisei and Kakyoin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: complete and utter crack. (And Takeru singing karaoke is actually canon, as per the mini-dramas.)

“Don’t let him fool you. He’s not Tomoe, Takeru-chan.”

Takeru stopped the moment he exited the club house, ultimately not surprised by the abrupt voice, even though he hadn’t expected a visit so soon after the race. He turned, allowing the full extent of his callous stare to pierce Suwa Reiji. The older Stride player deflected it with a calming smile, leaning against the wall of the school with a gentle if admonishing grin. 

Takeru knew better than to rebuff the older runner who stayed as quiet and reserved as Takeru until Reiji’s sharp eyes dropped down to the now white coat and black kapris. Only then did he relent and approach. 

“I see your sponsor found you new uniforms, but that won’t change what is fundamentally wrong.” 

Takeru waited, though he knew what was coming. 

Reiji’s soft smile never fell. “Honan will waste your talents, Takeru-chan. You saw that today.”

“It was his first race,” Takeru managed, and when Reiji furled an eyebrow, he added, “Reiji-senapi.”

“ _His_?” 

Takeru cursed internally. Of course, Reiji would pick up on his slip. 

“What did you think would happen if you went to Honan, Takeru-chan?” That soft smile never wavered, only turned fonder as Reiji placed one hand upon Takeru’s shoulder while the other lifted Takeru’s chin. “Did you think Tomoe would come back to race with you? He left you, Takeru-chan. He left _us_ to race in America two years ago, and even though he came back to fight in the E.O.S., he still chose a different school than yours.”

Takeru heard the silent _than mine._

“And Yagami-kun is not a viable substitute,” Reiji continued, all in that nurturing purr. “At his best, he is an imposter. At this worst, he will be your Achilles heel. Cut him off now before he ruins your chances at the championship.”

At some point, Takeru’s hands balled into his fists, and his shoulders bunched. He wasn’t sure of what he wanted to say before it came out, “Riku is not Tomoe, and I don’t want him to be. He is my racing partner, not my senpai, and I believe in him.”

Reiji’s grin finally fell as shock took over, but he recovered quickly, even if his eyes sharpened with that competitive spirit the others rarely saw. For a moment, Takeru almost lost himself, the smile he once carried skirting at the edge of his tightly reined control, but Reiji, of course, saw it. 

He saw everything. 

“Why, Honan, Takeru-chan? Why not Saisei?”

Takeru thought the answer was fairly obvious. “I cannot sing.”

That surprised a laugh from Reiji, elegant and quiet but true. When he finally composed himself, his smile resituated itself upon his kind face. “Takeru-chan, did Tomoe tell you to go to Honan?”

Takeru, who prided himself on facing any challenge, glanced away, but Reiji brought him back with a touch of his cheek. “He said I’d find my ‘Reiji-senpai’ at Honan,” he admitted, his cheeks burning. “And Reiji-senpai never asked me to go to Saisei.”

“Hm. My sincerest apologies, my most precious kouhai. I would have welcomed racing with you again, but I cannot say I’m not excited to race against you, either.” Reiji pulled him in a quick hug, reminding Takeru of the many days upon the tracks when Reiji would comfort him after a particular hard loss or when skinned his knee during a final push. 

“There is nothing more exhilarating than battling a worthy opponent, neh, Takeru-chan?”

He would have been lying if he said he hadn’t wanted to join Reiji at Saisei or if Reiji had asked, that he wouldn’t have gone. But things were different now. He had a team and a partner, and Reiji seemed to sense that, holding him at arm’s length and scrutinizing him as he had when they were younger and wore the same jersey. Reiji must have seen what he wanted, and his smile only grew brighter. 

Takeru’s own understated smirk threatened to grace his lips, and that only widened Reiji’s. 

“Yes, I believe Riku-chan has been good for you, and perhaps you may be good for him.”

As Reiji passed, Takeru whirled, reaching out to grab Reiji’s sleeve and ask him what he meant when he saw Riku standing less than twenty feet away, watching them with blatant curiosity. He wore his new jersey and sweat shorts, ready to train with Takeru even though the last race had ended only a few hours ago.

Reiji glanced over his shoulder with that fond glint in his eyes. “Train hard, Takeru-chan. Next time we race, I won’t go easy on you.”

“Easy?” Riku echoed as Reiji passed him. “But you won this race by four-tenths of a second!”

“Yes, a respectable margin, don’t you believe?” Reiji’s smile seemed tolerant now, forced. 

Takeru made sure to keep his firm, almost brash voice as he replied, “I will not lose to you again… Kaasan.”

Reiji whipped around while a laughing grin easily took Riku’s face. “Takeru- _chan!_ I should have let you lose by more than _six_ seconds. That would have been an adequate spanking for your cheekiness.”

Only Reiji and Tomoe would ever call _him_ cheeky. 

Riku popped up between them. “Huh?”

“Otousan would not have approved,” Takeru replied. 

Reiji’s amusement sparkled in his eyes, though his facial expression remained reserved. “Then you may cry to your father the next time you battle Kakyoin.”

“I will.”

“Good.” He headed off then with a lingering wave. “And tell him to come visit me. Shizuma is a good friend, but that’s all he is.”

Once he was gone, Riku whirled toward Takeru, bopping up and down on the balls of his feet. “What was Suwa-san talking about? Why did you call him your mother, and your father is at Kakyoin?”

Takeru met Riku’s wondering eyes, trying to discover how they both knew Tomoe so intimately and in some ways, not at all. But he let the thought die as he snatched the back of Riku’s jacket and dragged him back toward the track. 

“Stride first, talk later.”

“Ugh! You sound just like my brother, y’know. Everything is Stride with him. I swear, you’re like his clone.”

“Hm.” Takeru could probably hear Reiji’s quiet voice laughing, “Like father, like son.”

But Takeru was like both his parents. After all, he actually rocked at Karaoke, but he thought he’d keep that little tidbit to himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hated that in episode three, we didn’t get to see Takeru and Reiji’s part of the race, which got me thinking. How did Takeru come within winning time? Is Reiji that bad, or did Reiji let Takeru catch up? Hence this head cannon: Reiji, Tomoe, and Takeru went to the same middle school. Tomoe and Reiji taught Takeru how to Stride, and they both acted like his parents, and thus—crack. (Please note: I don’t know the Otome game plot, so I’m only writing these stories with the anime as my inspiration.)


End file.
